


The King of London

by theSapphireSky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Dark Sherlock, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: “You are new in town and I will extend the benefit of the doubt to you just once.” He set the glass down and the dull thud sounded ominous. And when he spoke, deep and dark, Jim understood why this man struck fear into cop and criminal alike.“Lay eyes on my queen again and there will be no place in London you can hide from me.”





	1. Chapter 1

He had come for a drink. Double whiskey, neat. 

He should have known better.

New York had been fun in its day, but he was ready for a new town. New fun. But trust the seductive London to lure him in to the one place he should never have gone. 

From his booth in the dark corner of the club, the room hazy with smoke, James Moriarty lazily eyed the crowd, evaluating his competition. From what he could see of London’s underworld, it would be an easy piece to take the crown for himself from these small time gangsters.

That is, until his roving gaze landed on a table near the center of the room. A circular booth occupied by three. A blonde-haired woman with a sweet smile and murder in her eyes who was whispering into her man’s ear something no doubt inappropriate for a public setting. Her gown was a shimmering black number that emphasized an hourglass figure and hid no less than three deadly weapons. And by the way his finger stroked the rim of his glass, her date was a sure-shot, as well. 

But it wasn’t the blonde, canoodling couple that piqued Jim’s interest.

It was the lone wolf sitting beside them, arms on the back of the booth, surveying the club as if he owned it. His hair was curly, but he had made a concerted effort to tame them back and his suit was of the highest tailored quality. 

This, Jim deduced, was the King of London. 

And it would be Jim’s pleasure to dethrone him.

The man started to turn his head in Jim’s direction. But then a heavy, sultry beat began and an excited hum grew through the crowd. The man’s gaze immediately flew to the stage.

Jim quirked an eyebrow and took a sip, intrigued, as the lights dimmed and the music began. If this man ran the show, now would be the ideal time to go snoop about for more information, while he was distracted by the performance.

He had moved to the edge of the seat, about to slip out, when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.

In a dress that threatened to come undone with one strategically place cut of his blade, she stepped out onto the stage and the lights fell on her. Her long brown hair covered half of her face and she lowered her head, peering out at the crowd through half-lidded eyes, a sinful smile playing on the corner of her red lips.

As soon as she began singing, Jim was hers. Mind. Body. And whatever part was left of his soul.

He sat back in his seat and watched, entranced, as she serenaded him, her beautiful voice pulling him in like a siren seduces a sailor. Her hips swayed to the beat and she teased him with a flash of skin as she stepped down into the crowd. 

Men and women alike followed her with their eyes, Jim silently promising to kill each one that dared touch her. 

But when she drew closer to the king, Jim narrowed his eyes in realisation. As soon as she locked eyes on the lone wolf, it was as if everyone else ceased to exist. She sang for  _him_.

A burning rage filled him.

As her fingers trailed seductively across the king’s broad chest, she smiled. Not a seductive smile, but a genuine, loving smile. The king caught her hand before she could move out of the way. Her song didn’t waver as he pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, his eyes never leaving hers. 

There was no doubt in Jim’s mind that the two of them were deeply devoted to the other.

A wicked grin spread across his face.

He had always loved a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

Thunder rolled in the distance, a flash of lightning promising a coming storm. And inside, a match flared to life in the darkness, illuminating the intruder’s sharp features. 

“Your security was a joke.”

Closing the door, Moriarty slowly reached for the handle of the pistol stashed in the hidden pocket of his jacket before flipping the light switch.

Sherlock Holmes, king of London, looking for all the world perfectly at home in Jim’s favourite chair, took a deep drag of his cigarette and leaned back into the leather. His hair was slicked back, making his angular face appear all the more intimidating. 

To any other man. 

Jim knew that behind the icy blue eyes and blood-stained hands, the king had a bleeding heart. And it only bled for one woman. 

“You just can’t rely on anyone these days,” Jim lamented. No great loss to him, the two morons he’d hired for security were expendable. 

“Tea?” He offered it as a mock formality, knowing neither of them would be drinking.

Holmes simply quirked an eyebrow and picked up a glass from the table beside him, filled to the brim with Jim’s finest whiskey. Against his will, Jim’s nose twitched in irritation.

“I believe it is only fair. You have partaken of my finest for the past fortnight.”

The insinuation was undeniable that he was not taking only about the whiskey. 

Holmes swirled the liquid once, twice, eyes fixed on the glass as he said almost casually. “Stay away from her, Moriarty.”

Jim grinned wickedly. He would sooner turn himself over to the law. Once he set his mind on having something, nothing and nobody would stand in his way. 

And he wanted her.

“Or else?”

Holmes’ eyes flashed and his gaze snapped to Jim’s, their eyes locked in a silent war. “You are new in town and I will extend the benefit of the doubt to you just once.” He set the glass down and the dull thud sounded ominous. And when he spoke, deep and dark, Jim understood why this man struck fear into cop and criminal alike. “Lay eyes on my queen again and there will be no place in London you can hide from me.”

A blinding flash of lightning illuminated the room before it plunged into darkness, thunder shaking the ground. And when the lamp flickered back to life, the chair was empty and the window open, curtains fluttering in the breeze. 

Jim pulled out his pistol and cautiously made his way across the room, peering out the side of the window. Nothing. 

The heavens opened then and washed away any sign of his intruder. 

Jim smiled to himself, amused by Holmes’ threat. One way or another, she would be his queen. And he would do whatever it took to steal the key to her heart.

Because, after all, the man with the key is king. 


End file.
